


My heart skips a beat

by Jaxon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cokeworth, Explicit Language, F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaxon/pseuds/Jaxon
Summary: Tobias Snape is an old romantic, and much to the chagrin of his long suffering mother, refuses to settle down until he meets the woman who makes his heart skip a beat.Enter Eileen Prince.Set against the backdrop of a Muggle Britain reeling from WWII, this fic covers Eileen and Tobias' embryonic relationship, all the way through to Severus' early Muggle schooldays.





	My heart skips a beat

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked on Tumblr for: A different slant on Tobias?
> 
> How could I refuse? I like playing with Tobias; he's ridiculously interesting, no matter which form he takes.

“I’ll not ask yer again, lad!”

Tobias sighed and heaved himself up from the chair before the fire, scowling as the cat dived into his newly vacant and well warmed seat.  “I said I’d go after tea,” he muttered, as he walked into the kitchen. He sank down heavily at the table and pulled his boots on, yanking hard on the laces.

“An’ I’ve ‘eard that before an’ all!”  His mother stood in front of the stove, each burner on the hob covered with pans, their lids threatening to lift from the bubbles beneath.  “I asked yer last night, and I ‘ad to make yer excuses. Showin’ me up in front of the neighbours.  It’s not righ’.”

“I’d been at work all day - I was knackered!”

She swiftly clipped him around the back of his ear.  “And none of that shop talk in ‘ere, d’yer hear me?”

“What? Knackered?”  He gave a toothy grin as he ducked his mother’s hand.

“I’m warnin’ yer, Toby. Don’t be talkin’ like that to Mrs Jones.”

“I won’t, Ma.”

“An’ get a wriggle on, yer tea’ll be cold if you don’t shape yersel’.”

“Yes, Ma.”

* * *

“Well?”

“Well what?”  Tobias reached across the table for the butter and spread it thickly across his slab of bread, hesitating when he saw his mother’s scowl.

“That’s got to last all week, yer know.  Yer can use the margarine if you want to spread it thick like that.”

“I don’t like margarine on me bread.”  He gave a small laugh at her look of indignation.  “Don’t worry, Ma, I’ll get some more.”

“From where?”  She gave him a cold look.  “I’ve tol’ yer about yer gamblin’ in the pub.”

“It’s not gamblin’! Trade and trade alike, that’s all.” Tobias laid his knife heavily on the table.  “Look Ma, if Jimmy don’t have use for his butter ration, then where’s the ‘arm in swappin’ it for a pint or two?”

She pulled her cardigan tighter.  “A pint or two?  That’s the problem int it, Tobes?  Yer go down the George to make yer swap at ‘alf seven, an’ then yer come rollin’ in ‘ere at midnight, drunk as a lord-”

Tobias scoffed, shovelling food into his mouth.

“Yer’ll never find a good woman wi’ yer carryin’ on like that!”

He paused, and she could almost see the thoughts running through his mind – he’d always been easy to read, even when he was a small boy.  Slowly, he chewed the last of his food before wiping his plate clean with his bread.  “That’s why yer wanted me to look at Mrs Jones’ chimney?”

“…I don’t know what yer mean.”

“Ah, come off it, Ma!” Tobias stood, his rage pinking the tips of his ears, and he pulled his jacket from the back of the chair.  “Yer dint send me there to help, yer sent me there so Diane could have a good look at me, dint yer?  Like I’m summat out yer Littlewoods catalogue for ‘er to take ‘er pick!”

“Toby!  No-”

But with a ferocious slam of the back door, he was gone.

* * *

“Yer shouldn’ be too hard on yer mam, lad,” Derek said as he placed the settling pint in front of Tobias.

“She’s always interferin’,” Tobias grumbled.  “Watch yer language.  Watch yer drinkin’.  Watch yer gamblin’.”

“She just wants to see yer right,” Jimmy said, taking a long sip from his glass.  “Settled down, like.”

Tobias scoffed. “Ain’t no-one round ‘ere wants to settle down wi’ the likes of me.”

“Yeah, yer daft ha’p’orth, that’ll be cause of yer language, yer drinkin’ and yer gamblin’,” Derek laughed.

“Ah, get on wi’ yer!  Do summat useful, Des, an’ get us them arrows yer’ve got stashed.”

Jimmy stood.  “Grand, on fer a bob?”

“Not bleedin’ likely. Threpny bit a game and no more.”

“See, yer are good boy and yer do listen to yer mam.”

Tobias bristled at the tease, but didn’t speak.  He picked the darts up off the bar and started to play; if God was on his side, he knew his good aim would sting Jimmy more than any scathing retort.

* * *

Jimmy slung his arm loosely around Tobias’ shoulder as they made their way down his street.

“Shurrup, will yer?” Tobias hissed.  “Yer’ll ‘ave ‘alf the neighbours out and then me mam’ll go spare.”  He paused, uncomfortably.  “Not that I care what she thinks.”

“Yer should care,” Jimmy slurred.  “She’s a good woman and she cares about yer.  That’s why she wants yer settled down.”

“No, she dunt care about that.  She cares about me eatin’ ‘er out of ‘ouse and ‘ome.”

“She’s put up wi’ yer this long.”  Jimmy grinned.  “Yer been at ‘er butter ration again, ‘ave yer?”

“…I know she’s wantin’ little ‘uns runnin’ round.”

Jimmy paused in the road, swaying dangerously.  “An’ yer don’t?”  His eyes narrowed as he scrutinised his friend.  

“…no point thinkin’ ‘bout it.  Yer know I’ve never ‘ad much luck with girls.  Not like our…”  Tobias suddenly trailed off.  “So I dint worry too much, just figured I’d be Uncle Toby…but now…”

Jimmy gave Tobias’ shoulder a hearty thump.  He drew two cigarettes from his pocket and lit them both before passing one over.  “S’all on yer.  Just yer to carry the name on.”  He gave Tobias an appraising look.  “He’d like that.  Yer da.”

Tobias took a hearty drag. “I know.  An’ our Davy an’ Paul an’ Pete.  That’s what me mam says.  S’all on Toby.  Still ain’t nowt I can do ‘bout it.”

“What ‘bout Di Jones? She’s a bonny lass.  Seems t’like yer.”

“Yer seen her mam?”

Jimmy nodded.

“Yer know what they say.”

“They all become their mam in the end?”  Jimmy grinned.  “I know she’s not much to look at, but she’s not a bad ‘un.”

“Talks the hind leg off the table,” Tobias grumbled.

“Beggars can’t be choosers, lad.”

* * *

“I swear to our Lord-”

“Ma!”  Tobias slat the newspaper on the floor.  “Give over, will yer?”

“She’s a good girl! What yer lookin’ for, Tobes?  One o’ them filmstar girls yer see at the flicks? You ain’t gonna get one o’ them ‘round Cokeworth!”

“I don’t expect a filmstar,” he grumbled, “but Mary Shaw int the answer.”

“And neither was Di Jones! Nothin’ wrong with ‘er but yer’ve missed yer chance.  She’s marrying Henry.”

“Good!  Good luck to ‘em!”

“Toby…”

“I just want a woman where my heart skips a beat, Ma.  That’s all.”

She scoffed.  “That’s all!  That’s all!  Ain’t half the neighbourhood lookin’ for that, Tobes, an’ I’ll tell yer-”

“Yeah?”

“Ain’t no-one round ‘ere getting’ that.  A good woman who dunt mess you around, brings up yer kiddies, and puts yer meal on the table. That’s what yer lookin’ for. Heart skippin’ a beat!  I ask yer!  Yer talkin’ like a fourteen year old!”

Tobias picked his newspaper back up and scowled into it.

“An’ I’ll tell yer one more thing an’ all, thick head!  If yer meet yer heart skippin’ woman, d’yer think she’s gonna look twice at a man who drinks ‘alf his wage down the George, and gambles the other wi’ the bookie in the back room?”  She wrung her hands.  “Yer’ve got a reputation, and yer’ll get yersel’ arrested one of these days.  An’ then no good woman will look twice at yer!”

The banging of the door was his only response.

* * *

They were separated by three railway tracks, and yet he could see that she wasn’t pretty.  She was thin and pinch faced, with dark lank hair tucked behind her ears, but something about her had caught his eye. The rest of the passengers bustled off the platform, leaving her behind as she wrestled with a large case.

He lowered his paper a fraction.  She’d find it easier if she put that stick down out of her hands, but she seemed oddly reluctant to let go of it.  He squinted; he couldn’t even tell what it was, or why it was so important – but it was hampering her efforts to carry the case.

“Yer righ’?” he shouted, his deep voice booming across to the opposite platform.

She was startled, and looked around the station for the disembodied voice.

“Over ‘ere, love!  I’m ‘cross the tracks!” he called again, jamming his paper under his arm and waving.  

She lifted a hand – a dainty hand – in response, and a slight smile crossed her pinched features, lighting up her previously sour face.

“Leave it,” he said, pointing to the case.  “I’ll come over an’ give yer a ‘and.”

When he huffed down the stairs on the opposite side of the platform, he grabbed the case in a smooth movement and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

“It’s good of you,” she said, her voice soft, and her eyes dark.  “You’re very kind.”

“Can’t have yer strugglin’,” he said.  “Where we goin’?”

She fumbled in her pocket and pulled out her ticket.  “Colne.”

He frowned.  “Colne?  Pendle? So why d’yer get off ‘ere, love?”

“They said to change.”

“At Cokeworth?”

Her eyes widened.  “I thought they said this was Oxenholme?”  

He gave a hearty laugh. “Yer ain’t never been to Oxenholme before, ‘ave yer?”

“Have you?”

“Well,” he blushed slightly, “I know it don’t look ‘owt like Cokeworth.  All trees and that up there.”  He walked towards the large run of paper timetables on the wall, and placed her case on the floor.  “Come from Carlisle way, have yer?  Yer’ve shot right past Oxenholme,” he said, pressing his forefinger heavily on the timetable.  “From ‘ere, yer’d be best off goin’ up to Preston.”  He nodded at the station clock.  “Yer gotta wait for the connection to Manchester,” his forefinger pressed against the timetable.  “Then get yersel’ to Preston, then up to Colne.  Be a bit yet.”  He sounded apologetic.  “Yer missed the train to Manchester by minutes.  Not so many at this time of day.”

At her frown, he put a large hand on her shoulder.  “It’ll be righ’,” he said, kindly.  “Yer’ll just be a little late.  Yer got someone waitin’ fer yer?”  He fumbled in his pocket.  “I got some change, yer can give the station a bell, let ‘em know.”

She shook her head.

“It’s long distance, but I think I’ve got enough,” he said, fishing for the coins in his pocket.

“No, there’s nobody waiting for me.”

He paused.  “So what yer goin’ there fer if there’s not some young man waitin’ for yer?”

She drew herself up to her full height, which wasn’t much to speak of – and Tobias, standing at well over 6 foot, gave a small smile at her efforts.  “I just chose somewhere.”

“Yer just chose somewhere?” He could feel a laugh boiling in the bottom of his chest.  “And where did yer just choose somewhere from?”

“London.  Kings Cross.”

“Bleedin’ hell,” he said, scratching the back of his head, confused at why she’d seemingly travelled across the country and back again.  “Sorry, mind me language an’ all that.  Just, swappin’ London for Cokeworth.  Change an’ ‘alf from them bright city lights.”  He paused again.  “So what were yer gonna do in Colne, if yer dunt mind me askin’?”

She froze.  She couldn’t tell this Muggle why she chose Pendle.

He eyed her critically. “Yer runnin’ from summat, int yer?” He gave a small huff of laughter. “Yer not the only one, lass.  If I had more than brass tacks, I’d join yer.”

“So why are you here if you’re not travelling?”

“Just watchin’ the trains,” he said.  “I like the steam, and the smoke, and the roar of the engine.”  At her smile, he continued.  “And the people.  I like watchin’ the people.  Imaginin’ where they’re goin’, and who they’re meetin’.”  He flushed. “Daft, aye.”

“Not as daft as getting on a train to nowhere.”

There was a long pause, and Tobias silently fingered the coins in his pocket, counting in his head. “Yer don’t have ter get back on, yer know.”  He looked into her dark eyes, and he felt his heart skip over.  “Yer could…yer could come ter town.  Find someone put yer up, like.  Yer might like it.”

“I thought you wanted to leave?”

He gave a shy smile. “Just had a barney with me mam, that’s all.  Couldn’t just up and leave ‘er.  Y’know what family is like.”

She pursed her lips. “I wouldn’t know.”

Tobias’ jaw dropped. “Eh, love, I’m sorry.  Bloody big mouth.  An’ now I’m swearin’.”  He stumbled over his words.  “I am sorry. It’s the same wi’ me.  Lost me da’ and me brothers in the war.  Just me left.  And me mam.”

“You fought?”

He nodded.  “Don’t like talkin’ ‘bout it,” he said, gruffly. “But least I came ‘ome.”  He paused, awkwardly.  “If it was yer whole family, was it bombin’?”

She didn’t like to correct him, not now he’d made the assumption, but seeing his pained expression, she couldn’t quite form the words to complete the lie.  She settled for a slight nod.

“Aye, it was bad down that way,” he said.  “Heard people got in them tubes when they came over but…s’pose there wan’t always room.”  He coughed, and straightened.  “Right, if I’ve convinced yer to stay, we’d best make tracks.”  He took a step, and then turned.  “That’s if I ‘ave convinced yer to stay?”

* * *

“I don’t like ‘er.”

“Yer’ve been on at that lad for the past decade,” Mrs Jones laughed, as she pegged her washing out. “Now he’s found himself a gel, and yer still not best pleased.”  She picked up another shirt and sniffed.  “Course, he’d ‘ave done well with our Di-”

“Is she not happy with Henry?”

“Oh, she’s happy,” Mrs Jones said, cautiously.  “He’s got a bit of a temper, that’s all.  Not quite as soft as your lad.”

She snorted.  “Tobias ain’t soft.  Soft in the head, mebbe.”

“Yer shouldn’t be so harsh. She seems nice enough.”

“What sort of woman gets off at the wrong station and chooses to stay wi’ the first man she meets?”

Mrs Jones paused as she reached for the peg basket.  “Toby told our Sidney that her family died in the war.”

“The war was ten years ago. And how old’s she?”  She sniffed as she repositioned the prop.  “Twenty?  She’s been wi’ some fella who’s chucked her, if yer ask me.”

“Sidney said she was at a private school.  She talks posh enough.  If she’s twenty one, p’raps she went to university.  That’s what them posh folk do.”

“P’raps.  But that just brings more questions.”

Mrs Jones raised an eyebrow and slung the washing basket under her arm.  “Yes?”

“If she’s so well educated, then what’s she doin’ with my wastrel of a son, who can barely string ‘alf a sentence together?”

“…he’s a good lookin’ lad, as well yer know.”

“Aye, fifteen year ago he was.  He’s forty three, and wi’ all that beer, he’s lookin’ every inch of it.”

“She’s hardly a picture.”

“Summat’s wrong.  He tol’ me he couldn’t just settle – he wanted a lass who made his heart skip a beat.  An’ yer tellin’ me that she’s it?”

* * *

“Derek sends his best,” Jimmy said, settling himself at the kitchen table.  “Aft’noon, Eileen.  I’ll ‘ave a brew if there’s one goin’, love?”

“You’re in luck, Jimmy. I’ve just poured.  Sugar?”

“Just half, cheers.” Jimmy smiled at Tobias as Eileen busied herself with the pot.  “Ah, yer’ve got a good ‘un ‘ere, Tobes.”

“Don’t I know it,” Tobias grinned back.  “So what’s on with Des?”

“Apart from him being miserly because yer’ve stopped propping up the bar wi’ yer money…” Jimmy trailed off at Tobias’ frantic signalling.  “I mean, we’re wonderin’, that is, the lads and Des…well, d’yer wanna get that Sunday league footy goin’ again?  After church, on the rec?”

Eileen placed the strong brew in front of Jimmy and took her own seat the table.  “I think that’s a good idea, don’t you, Toby?  And maybe you could have a pint with the lads after?”

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Yeah…  I mean, if you don’t mind, Leen?”  He looked back at Jimmy.  “We’ve been savin’, y’see.  The wedding cost a bit and…”  He glanced back at Eileen, who nodded.  “We’re ‘avin a little ‘un.”

“Bloody hell, Tobes!” Jimmy threw his arms around Eileen and kissed her cheek, before extending his hand to Toby and pumping his arm furiously.  “That’s brilliant.”

Eileen kissed Tobias’ temple.  “You should go with Jimmy now, and have a drink.  To celebrate.”

* * *

“Don’t tell anyone yet,” Tobias said, as he strode down the street.

“The lads’ll be made up for yer, Tobes.”

“Yeah, well.”  Tobias ran his hand through his hair.  “Lost two, already.  We was devastated, but Ma…”  He gave a small glance up at the sky.  “What will be an’ all that.”  He gave a sombre look at his friend.  “But what Ma don’t know won’t hurt her-”

“…if it don’t go as planned,” Jimmy finished.  “My lips are sealed.”  He clapped his hand on Toby’s shoulder.  “I would never ‘ave guessed.  Your Leen is a strong woman.”

“Aye, she’s incredible. Couldn’t believe my luck when she fell into my arms.”

* * *

“Just needed a new washer, that’s all,” he said, dropping his spanner back into his toolbox.  He twisted the tap on and off a few times, appraising the gushing water.  “S’all good now.”  He turned the tap off, and picked up his toolbox.  “Right, I’ll be off.  If that’s everythin’?”

“…Toby?”

“Summat else broke?” His face was hard.

“…we both know, Toby, that-”

“Ma, if this is about Leen, I’ve tol’ yer already, I don’t want to hear it.”

“There’s summat funny goin’ on when yer playin’ yer footy!”

“Ma!”  His expression was furious.  “We can’t win, can we?  Before I got wi’ Leen, yer wanted me shacked up wi’ any woman.  I get wi’ Leen, and then you wan’ me shacked up wi’ anyone but her. We move into old Pat Riley’s place and it ain’t good enough fer yer that we’re sharin’ with the Metcalfes, so then I get us a little ‘ouse of us own and yer tell us it’s a slum!  Yer tol’ me that me drinkin’ and gamblin’ was shamin’ the family, so I stopped, and then yer tol’ Leen that she’d ruined me by keepin’ me in t’ouse all night long!  I know yer put Jimmy up ter gettin’ me on the footy team, and I’m sure yer only did that ‘cause yer thought she’d say no, and it’d put cat amongst t’pigeons.”

“Tobes-”

“No, Ma!”  His voice echoed around the tiny kitchen.  “Yer gonna listen to me fer once!  I love Leen.  I love her.  I love Eileen.  She’s my world.  An’ I don’t care what stupid story yer gonna make up next.  Spreadin’ rumous that we lost the baby ‘cause she was collectin’ plants from the river, or tellin’ next door that yer’ve seen weird lights in the ‘ouse-”

“I have!”

“Yer haven’t!”  Tobias was fuming, spittle flying from his lips. “It’s in yer bloody ‘ead!”  His chest rose and sank with fury.  “I thought yer might’ve given her a break after she lost them kiddies but yer can’t even do that, can yer?”  His eyes narrowed.  “I’m tellin’ yer, it ain’t her to blame.  If yer ain’t got owt nice ter say, yer can keep away.”

“Toby-”

“I mean it,” he said coldly, and the door banged so loudly, the windows rattled in their frames.

* * *

“She’s unnatural.”

His mother’s words echoed around his head as he dressed.

“That’s why yer heart skips a beat.  It’s not love.  It’s ‘cause she makes it happen.”

She’d died before his lad was born, and Tobias was relieved that she had.  He’d been devastated at the time, sobbing at the graveside with his heavily pregnant wife clutching his hand – but one look at the lad’s dark eyes and unblinking stare, and his ma would’ve proclaimed that the boy was also unnatural.

Unnatural.  His boy.  Tobias gave a tiny harrumph.  His boy was bright, he knew that much – always into everything, yet his dad could never catch him.  Their belongings would move across the room, and even out of cupboards, or down off shelves. The little sod had even worked out how to change the channel on the radio, which was saying something because it had taken three reads of the manual for Tobias to work out how to change it back.

He didn’t much like being bested by a 2 year old.

But each time he heard his mother’s words ringing in his ear, his son would crawl into his lap and whimper to be held.  Each time the thought of his boy being unnatural crossed his mind, his son would give him a shy grin, and cling to his leg.  His favourite trick this last month was to lift the net curtain and press his fingers and face against the window, watching for his dad to arrive home from work.

Leen went spare about the smudges; she’d cleaned the windows fifteen times in the last four weeks, and although he’d nodded his disapproval over their evening meal, Tobias couldn’t help but grin at the surge in his chest when he saw his boy’s face light up as he strode down the street.

Russ wasn’t unnatural. He was just bright.  Brighter than most down Spinner’s End.  He knew their boy would take after Leen – all brains - so Tobias had started saving a bit extra, shoving the coins under a floorboard in the bathroom.  He didn’t know anyone whose kids had got into Merryview Grammar, but he’d seen their uniforms, and knew they’d cost a pretty penny – so if that’s where his boy was destined to go, Tobias was going to make sure he made it, and wasn’t held back by something so silly.

He buttoned his trousers, and with a jolt, realised he was running late.  He clattered down the stairs to collect the milk from the front step, and charged through the living room, colliding heavily with his wife in the kitchen doorway – and the bottle of milk flew into the air.  Three sets of eyes watched in horror as the glass bottle descended, but before it hit the floor and smashed, it halted.  

There was a long pause as Tobias stared in horror at his young wife, who was pale and stricken.  Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling, and her lips gently fluttered as she muttered under her breath.  Slowly, he turned to gaze at his son, whose black eyes were fixed on the bottle.

“Is he-“

“Let it down, Severus.”

Their son didn’t flinch.

Eileen strode across the kitchen and clamped her hands over her son’s face.  Eye contact broken, the bottle fell from its suspension in the air, and Severus howled in dismay as the glass smashed, echoing around the tiny kitchen.

Tobias looked in horror at the milk, and then at his wife and child – both of whom appeared terrified.

“What the  _fuck_ was that?”  

* * *

“Toby?”

He didn’t turn around.

“Toby, love?”

“…I’m busy.”

“…when might you be home for tea?”

His shoulders slumped. “Don’t know.”

“Don’t know what time, or don’t know if you’re coming home?”

“Da?”

Tobias’ eyes fluttered closed.  “Why d’yer bring the boy ‘ere?”

“I couldn’t hardly leave him.”

“No place for a little ‘un,” he muttered.

“Da?  Da?”

Tobias turned, gritting his teeth as his son flung his arms open to be held, struggling to escape from his mother’s grip.  “Yer da’s busy, son.  I’ll see yer in a bit.”

“So you are coming home?”

Tobias turned back without speaking, and knelt before his mother’s grave, placing a warm hand on the cold headstone.

* * *

She waited for the explosion.  Tobias returned home, took his usual seat at the table, and ate heartily from his plate. He put on the radio, he read the paper, and he washed in front of the fire before heading to the pub.

She went to bed, and lay stiffly under the covers, listening for the creak of the door.  She heard his footsteps heavy on the stairs, and she closed her eyes tightly as he made his way across the room, his breath stale with alcohol.

She listened to him strip, knowing he was folding his clothing and placing it carefully on the chair, and then the bed sank as he joined her under the covers.  Her chest tightened, fearful he would spurn her, ignore her – that they would live out the rest of their days in uneasy silence.

And then, his large warm hand moved over her stomach, and he pulled her against his thick body.  “You awake?”

“…yes.”

“Good.”

He gently turned her, and held her face in his hands, staring into her dark eyes.  She could read him like an open book – he was scared, and proud, defiant, and angry – so she kissed him, and held him, and adored him until she could only see love in his bright blue eyes.

* * *

“Does he know?”

She stilled, half dressed. “Severus?”

“Yeah,” he said, propping himself up on one elbow, the sheets covering his lower body.  “When yer were a kid.  Did yer know?”

She shook her head.  “I can’t remember.  I think I always knew, but my parents were magical.”

“His parent is magical.”

“No, I…”  She turned to face her husband, buttoning her blouse. “My parents used magic and talked about magic.  I’ve never said anything to Severus.”

“Never said?  Ever used?”

His accusation hung thickly in the air, and Eileen ducked her head, shrugging on her cardigan.  A wry smile tugged at Tobias’ mouth.

“He asked me, yer know,” he said.  “In his little boy way.”

“Asked you?”

“He asked me for the lights, like mummy does.”  He gave her a hard stare.  “I was pissin’ about wi’ that candle for ages, and he was wailin’, sayin’ it wasn’t righ’.”

She didn’t dare look at him again, but Tobias was up and out of bed, gripping her wrist.  “Once or twice,” she said, quietly.

“You hid it,” he said.

“I’m sorry.”

He batted her apology away with a shake of his head.  “…can he?”

* * *

She hoped he could. He was well behaved, and would do as he was told - but she didn’t account for the bullies.

Severus was bright – she knew it, Tobias knew it, and the kids at school knew it.  The difference was, his parents were proud, but the kids were jealous.  They jostled him, and prodded him, and moved away if he sat near them.

The quiet kid with dark eyes and a burning stare didn’t say a word.  Didn’t retaliate.  Didn’t voice his displeasure.  So the teachers let him get on with it.  They weren’t overly concerned - the class needed to find its pecking order, and a bit of jockeying for position happened in every year.

Things came to a head when, half way through the first year, a kid kicked him in the head during physical education.  The kid, and his friends, screamed that it was an accident – that he was climbing up the rope, and it swung away from him.

Severus calmly nodded, and once the kid was three quarters of the way up, Severus set fire to the knot at the bottom.

* * *

The Potions Master lay back on his bed, sifting through his bundle of letters.  He’d had them stashed under his bed for years, but a forced replacement programme had seen his old four poster being banished, and a new – larger – one had been put in its place.  He hadn’t been pleased at the disruption, but he had to admit, the new one was comfier.  Hardly surprising, this one hadn’t had Slughorn draped across it for half a century.

Severus bit back a grin as he flicked through the letters.  Most of them were perfunctory, as was his mother’s wont; his father had won a darts tournament, or the neighbours were fighting over the bins – but in this one missive, he’d clearly asked her a question.

She’d written a few paragraphs, talking about his love of Christmas trees, and the time he’d summoned a bag of sweets from another child, and had wolfed them down so quickly before he was caught, he’d spent the afternoon being sick.  

He laughed as she mentioned lights emanating from the end of her wand, and his little boy fury at trying to get his dad to do the same – and his father spinning around the room with a candle.  Severus shook his head.  He couldn’t quite reconcile the gruff image of Tobias – angry, shouting, violent Tobias – with the man who would’ve done as such for his son.

He frowned as he read about how he would press his face up to the window when he waited for his dad to come home from work, and clamour to be held – even crawling into Tobias’ lap for attention.

Severus couldn’t remember any of it.

All Severus could remember was that fateful day when he’d set fire to the school.  He remembered his father screaming and shouting, and his mother cowering, the burn of pain from his punishment, and the week he’d spent confined to his bedroom.

He didn’t go back to school after that.

In fact, he didn’t mix with Muggles much at all after that day.

Including his father.


End file.
